Poetry

129. a button, a promise

2-berry

The button sown into the
underside of my favorite winter coat
(right above the heart)
was, after all, a promise.

I was sad to lose it.

You’d asked me not to forget
the day of the march, all the hullabaloo of
an angry crowd and you, shielding my
face with a calloused hand.

I was sad to lose you.

Even though you made me
uncomfortable more often than warm,
if I ever found you again, I wanted to have practiced
the art of indifference to small annoyances.

I was sad to lose.

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